


Dinner for Two

by Severina



Category: Live Free or Die Hard (2007)
Genre: Community: smallfandomfest, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-28
Updated: 2015-05-28
Packaged: 2018-04-01 15:04:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4024378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Severina/pseuds/Severina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucy needs help with her laptop, so Matt agrees to meet her for dinner. Things don't go exactly as planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dinner for Two

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Lj's smallfandomfest for the prompt 'Lucy plays matchmaker'
> 
> * * *

Matt squinted through the falling sleet, hunching his shoulders against the wind as he hustled down the street. He lifted his head long enough to spot the neon sign for the Pagoda House and put on an extra burst of speed, his sneakered feet slipping on the ice as he double-timed it down the block. By the time he made it to the restaurant he practically tumbled through the door, bent at the knees and shivering.

What was he thinking? He absolutely should never have agreed to go out on a night like this.

"Told ya you should take up jogging, kid."

Matt glanced up at the voice, smiled through the frost on his bangs and pushed off from where he'd stumbled back against the wall to join the other waiting patrons milling about in the foyer. "Hey!" he said. "Haven't seen you since—"

"Thanksgiving," John said.

"Right." Matt looked down and studied the snow dripping from his sneakers, the better to avoid John's eyes. 

Thanksgiving. The entire McClane-Gennaro clan crammed into John's little dining room, with their in-jokes and haha remember-that-time-when's; the awkward silences whenever Jack brought up some family celebration from the past that John had clearly missed, and Holly and her new boyfriend trying to kick-start the conversation until finally Lucy just swatted her brother on the head and told him to smarten up. And Matt squished between John's daughter and his ex-wife, ostensibly there with Lucy but unable to keep his eyes away from John's hands when he carved the turkey, John's lips when they quirked in his stupid half-smile, John's ass when he bent over to load the leftovers into the fridge. 

Yeah. Thanksgiving.

He'd done his best to avoid running into John McClane since then.

"So," Matt finally said, when the silence had stretched out and he was tired of eavesdropping on the couple next to him, because honestly there was only so much discussion of whether to trim the toy poodle's fur that he could stand. He looked up, tried a smile. "You did a little thing with your…" Matt waved a hand toward his hair.

John smoothed a hand over his bald pate, quirked a brow towards Matt's shaggy mane. "You didn't."

Matt shook his hair out of his eyes, lifted a shoulder. "You know how much it costs for a haircut these days? Until Bowman gets off his ass and clears my name I'm still only getting whatever pissant little coding jobs the Warlock can throw my way. I'll be lucky if I can pay my rent this month."

"Come on over," John said. "I'll do it."

Matt raised a brow. "What? No way! Put a pair of shears in your hands and I'd come out looking like Beaver Cleaver."

"Nothin' wrong with a nice conservative trim."

"Sure, if you're Buster Poindexter! My hair, McClane, happens to be something that I'm proud of! I might be a little scrawny and maybe I'm not the fastest guy on the block and okay, fine, my eyebrows could have their own zip code, but my hair is really… it's nice! I'm not going to just let anybody walk up and start hacking away at it, you know? And besides, little known fact, there is actually a scientific link – this has been proven, all right McClane? – between long hair and intellect. There was a study—"

"Jeeezus, kid, do you have an off switch?"

Matt huffed out a breath, but was saved from replying when the hostess touched his elbow. "Excuse me, sir, do you have a reservation?"

"Yeah, sorry," he answered. "I just get a little…" He waved a hand in the air, glanced down at the leather appointment book on the front desk. "Farrell, but I think it's under McClane. Or possibly Gennaro. It depends on how pissed off she is at her dad this week."

The hostess gave him a bland smile. "Fathers can be a handful."

"You don't know the half of it," Matt said with a smirk. "Her old man's a real piece of work."

John's eyes narrowed. "Why are you giving Lucy's name?"

"Oh," Matt said. "Right. I'm meeting her here. She said she had a problem with—"

"Yeah, with her student loan," John cut in. "Needs me to go over some paperwork, sign a few things."

"Noooo, with her laptop," Matt said. "She wanted me to take a look."

He watched as John swiped a hand over his chin. "What the—"

"Mr. Farrell? Mr. McClane?" the hostess interrupted. "Your table is ready now."

Matt's brow furrowed. " _Our_ table?"

The bland smile was back as she nodded. "If you'll just follow me?"

* * *

They were seated in a booth in the back corner, away from the hustle and bustle of the main restaurant. Matt eyed the single votive candle warily as he shrugged out of his wet jacket and slid into his seat, noticed that John stayed as far away from him on the plush velvet as possible.

When the hostess laid a set of menus on the table, John spoke up. "Look, lady, there's been a mistake—"

Matt nodded vigorously. Definitely a mistake, and there was no way he could sit at a table and make small talk with McClane for a couple of hours without Lucy as a buffer. He knows himself, and he knows that his mouth will get the better of him and he'll blurt something out and… This is basically a disaster. Maybe not Titanic level, but at least on par with the Edmund Fitzgerald. "That's right, we're supposed to meet—"

"Lucy said you'd… well, what she said you'd do I can't repeat, because I might get in trouble if my boss overhears me. Lucy doesn't exactly mince her words, does she?"

"Wait," Matt said, holding up a hand. "You know Lucy?"

This time the hostess's smile was genuine. "We're in poli-sci together. Now," she said briskly, setting a folded paper on top of the menus, "she also left this for you. Take a look, and I'll send a server over in a few minutes to get your drink orders."

Matt watched the girl until she vanished behind the bar, then turned his attention to his hands. He forced himself to relax before stealing a look across the table. John was glaring at the folded piece of paper like he could set it ablaze through force of will, and Matt found himself edging back just a little into the booth. With John McClane, you just never knew what was possible.

"So," he finally said.

The single word seemed to galvanize John into action. He snatched up the paper and unfolded it, and Matt eased a little closer to look over his shoulder and read along.

 

_Dear Matt and John,_

_As I'm sure you've both surmised, I'm not showing up at the Pagoda. In fact, I'm sitting in my dorm room eating double chocolate chunk ice cream and watching an SVU marathon right now. You, however, are finally going to sit down together and talk. No distractions and no excuses. Just admit you like each other and go from there, okay?_

_I can see you both looking up and starting to protest, so let me just stop you right there and tell you this:_

_Matt, you spend more time staring at my dad's ass than you do mine, which is lucky for you because if I caught you looking at me like that you'd have a black eye. And John, we all know that "jeeeezus, does the damn kid have an off switch?" is code for "I want to stick my tongue in his mouth to shut him up." Even Jack picked up on that one, and he hasn't seen you for two years. Who do you two think you're kidding?_

_So relax, sit back, have a beer, and enjoy a meal on me. (Well, actually on Mom because she sent me this gift card for Christmas. Also, she took me aside after Thanksgiving dinner and asked me if you two were already fucking, so you literally have no one fooled. Think about that the next time Connie asks how your weekend was, Dad.)_

_You can thank me later._

_Lucy_

 

"Jesus Christ," John muttered.

"She's your daughter," Matt was quick to point out. When John looked a glare at him, he shrugged. "And… kind of perceptive. You do say that thing about an off-switch a lot."

"Because you talk a lot."

"I have a lot to say. I'm loquacious. And I'm well-read, which means I can converse on a variety of subjects. Plus, I like to talk." He lifted a hand, pointed a finger. "Unlike Mr. Taciturn over here."

John leaned back in his seat, scrubbed a hand over his chin. "Jesus," he murmured again. 

"Point made," Matt said smugly. 

John scowled at him again, big hands slapping down on the table as he shifted in his seat. "Look, kid, enjoy the gift card, all right? I'm gonna take off."

"Or you could stay," Matt said quickly. He determinedly ignored the heat that he could feel infusing his cheeks, hoping that the low light hid it from view, and waved a hand as he continued doggedly on. "It _is_ coming down like hell out there," he said. "Might as well stay inside and get warmed up."

John hesitated half out of the booth, cocked his head toward the door. "Pretty bad night," he conceded. 

"Right?" The blush bloomed again at the sound of the relief in his own voice, and he hastily shoved a menu toward John's side of the table when he lowered himself back down. "You like pad thai? I've heard it's really good here, but I've never tried it. Here, I mean. I've had pad thai, obviously. Or we could get a bunch of things and share. But not rice. You ever notice that you can't get a decent rice anywhere? How hard is it not to fuck up rice? But everyone seems to manage it. It's always too bland, or too spicy, or too—"

"Lookin' for that off switch again, kid," John said.

"Hah, right," Matt said. He blinked, fidgeted a little in his seat. "Wait, does that mean that right now you want to—"

"Just order, Matt."

"Right. Ordering," Matt said. He glanced down unseeingly at the menu, spoke the next words without looking up. "Just a warning though. Later on I might push your fork off the table so you have to get up and bend over to pick it up."

John was silent, but Matt glanced up in time to him shake his head and smirk into his own menu. He felt his shoulders relax as he leaned back into the booth, looked at the menu for real this time. "You wanna share a bowl of dan dan noodles?"

He only half-listened as John bitched about heartburn, then picked another item from the menu. By the time their waitress arrived they had almost come to an agreement on two of the options, and Matt was feeling more confident by the moment that John wasn't going to suddenly panic and bolt. 

Outside, the wind had picked up and the sleet played a staccato rhythm on the windows, but inside he was warm and dry and watching the flickering light of the candle play over John McClane's face.

Agreeing to go out tonight was the best idea he'd ever had.


End file.
